At the end of her arduous penance, the blessed Diti gave birth to a son whose strength was unmatched—unconquerable, invincible, and impervious to any weapon. Remarkably, the child, named Vajrāṅga, was immediately proficient in all forms of weaponry and missiles. Filled with devotion, he approached his mother and asked, “Mother, what shall I do?” Delighted, Diti addressed her son, the lord of the Daityas: “Many of my sons have been slain by Indra, the thousand-eyed one, my child. Go, avenge them and slay Indra.” Upon hearing his mother’s command, Vajrāṅga, mighty and resolute, set forth for heaven. There, he bound Indra with a noose of unfailing brilliance and brought him before his mother, just as a tiger would carry a small deer. At that moment, Brahmā and the great ascetic Kaśyapa arrived at the place where mother and son stood, fearless and unwavering. Seeing the situation, Brahmā and Kaśyapa spoke: “Release Indra, my son. What purpose does holding him serve?” They explained, “The killing of a respected one is a disgrace, my son. Know that one who is released at our word is as good as dead. Released out of regard for another, he bears the burden of his enemies. Though alive, he is dead day after day. For those under the sway of the great, there is no enmity with an enemy.” Hearing these words, Vajrāṅga bowed and responded, “I have no further business with him. My mother’s command has been fulfilled. You are the lord of gods and asuras, and my great-grandfather. I will do your bidding, O god; let Śatakratu be released. May my mind be devoted to austerities, O god, and may I be undisturbed.” Having said, “By your grace, O Lord,” Vajrāṅga fell silent. As he stood in silence, the Grandfather, Brahmā, addressed him: “You have undertaken severe austerity, adhering to my command; with this purity of mind, the fruit of your birth is fulfilled.” Then, the Lotus-born Brahmā created a maiden with eyes like lotus petals and gave her to Vajrāṅga as his wife. He named her Varāṅgī, and then departed. Vajrāṅga, together with Varāṅgī, went to the forest to practice austerity. The lord of the demons, pure-minded and great in penance, raised his arms and practiced austerity for a thousand years. Facing downward, surrounded by five fires, fasting, and terrible in austerity, he became a heap of penance. Then, for another thousand years, he performed austerity in water. As he entered the water, his wife, steadfast in great vows, remained on the shore of the lake. For his sake, she observed silence, fasting, and entered terrible austerity, radiant in glory. While Varāṅgī was engaged in austerity, Indra, seeking to disrupt her, created terror by taking the form of a great monkey at her hermitage. He made all her water pots, pitchers, and baskets tremble and scatter. Then, as a cloud, he caused a great shaking. Taking the form of a serpent, he bound her feet and dragged her far away, making her wander over the earth. Yet, endowed with the power of austerity, she was unharmed. Indra then became a jackal and defiled her hermitage. Again as a cloud, he soaked her hermitage. With many terrors, Pākashāsana tormented her. Despite all this, Varāṅgī did not cease her austerity. Considering the mountain to be at fault, she resolved to pronounce a curse. Sensing her intent, the mountain took human form and spoke to her, fearful in mind: “O Varāṅgī, I am not wicked; I am to be served by all embodied beings. It is Pākashāsana, enraged, who is causing this disturbance.” Meanwhile, the thousand-year period of Vajrāṅga’s austerity was completed. The blessed Lotus-born, pleased, came to Vajrāṅga, who was still immersed in water, and spoke: “I grant you all desires; arise, O son of Diti.” Thus addressed, Vajrāṅga, treasure of austerities, rose and, with joined palms, spoke to the Grandfather of all worlds: “May I not possess a demonic nature; may my worlds be imperishable; may I have delight in ascetic practice, and may my body continue to exist.” Brahmā replied, “So be it,” and returned to his own abode. Vajrāṅga, having completed his austerity with firm discipline, sought food and his wife, but could not find her at their hermitage. Overcome by hunger, he entered the mountain’s dense forest. As he went to gather fruits and roots, he found his beloved Varāṅgī, weeping and distressed, her face veiled by her garment. Seeing her sorrow, the lord of the Daityas gently consoled her: “By whom have you been wronged, O timid one, by someone desiring to go to Yama’s realm? Or what desire shall I fulfill for you? Quickly tell me, beautiful one.” Varāṅgī replied, “I have been frightened, cast away, struck, and tormented by the fierce king of the gods, as one bereft of her protector, again and again. Seeing no end to my suffering, I am resolved to abandon my life; give me my son Tāraka, that I may escape this vast ocean of grief and sorrow.” Hearing this, Vajrāṅga’s eyes burned with anger. Though capable of retaliating against the king of the gods, the great Asura resolved once more to undertake austerity. Knowing Vajrāṅga’s fierce intention, Brahmā again came to where the son of Diti was, and the blessed Lord addressed him with gentle words.